


It's (Not) Your Fault

by Spagheddje



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys Kissing, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eventual Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Forgive Me, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier is a Mess, Richie needs to go to therapy tbh, Sort Of, Spoilers, do I explain how he survives?, not really whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 20:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21308021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spagheddje/pseuds/Spagheddje
Summary: Richie Tozier has a nightmare about the final battle, and Eddie Kaspbrak is there to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 110





	It's (Not) Your Fault

_“I killed it! I think I killed it for real!” Eddie was shouting, pure joy in his eyes as he hovered overtop of Richie. Richie was laying on his back, having just woken from the Deadlights. Eddie had saved the him, thrown that spear and saved Richie’s fucking life. _

_Richie couldn’t hide the smile on his face. The fighting had ceased and for once, the sewer seemed quiet. Eddie’s hands came down to rest on Richie’s shoulders, giving him a slight shake with excitement._

_Eddie had really done it. He’d killed the fucking clown! Richie propped himself up on his elbows and found a laugh bubbling in his throat, one that Eddie matched. Before Richie could properly respond, Eddie had launched himself forward and planted a firm kiss against Richie’s lips. _

_Richie could have sworn he felt his heart explode in his chest. Eddie was kissing him. Eddie Kaspbrak, the boy he’d had a crush on since they were children, was willingly kissing him. Holy shit. _

_Richie reached to grasp Eddie’s forearm when the pair broke apart. They stared at each other with wide eyes, both seeming to realize what just happened. Just as Eddie began to scramble for some sort of an explanation, Richie cut him up with a “shut up, Eds” and pulled the shorter male in for another kiss. It was less rushed and frantic this time, filled with more emotion. While the circumstances weren’t exactly what Richie had planned, kissing Eddie Kaspbrak was more wonderful than he could have possibly imagined. _

_When they broke apart this time, both men were smiling. Eddie cupped both of Richie’s cheeks, eyes darting all over his face. It was as if he was looking at Richie for the first time, taking all of him in and memorizing all of his features. It made butterflies come alive in Richie’s stomach. Fuck, he was smitten._

_“Eddie, I-”_

_He didn’t get to finish. Eddie’s body jolted and with a gasp, a squelching sound echoed through the cave. Eddie’s eyes widened and when his mouth opened in shock, blood poured from his lips and down his chin. Richie’s eyes, now wide with horror, shot down to see the claw piercing directly through Eddie’s middle. _

_No, no! This wasn’t supposed to be happening! Richie had saved him! Fuck, he’d saved him!_

_He heard the rest of the Losers screaming, but Richie couldn’t take his eyes away from Eddie. Eddie looked horrified. _

_“R-Richie?” _

_“Eddie-”_

_With one sharp movement, Pennywise lifted Eddie into the air and threw him with all its might. Eddie slammed into a nearby rock, falling limply to the floor. Richie screamed something akin to Eddie’s name, scrambling to his feet and running over to him. He tripped on a stone as he got close, body slamming against the floor. He could have sworn he heard a crack from somewhere in his midsection, probably a rib. Richie didn’t care, he got to his hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way to Eddie. He had to get to Eddie. As soon as he got to Eddie’s side, he could see how bad the damage really was. There was a gaping hole in Eddie’s chest, oozing steadily with blood. Richie practically ripped his jacket off and, just as the others finally made it over to them, he pressed it against Eddie’s torso. Eddie whined in pain, and Richie was quick to shush him._

_“R-Richie...”_

_“Shh, Eds, it’s okay. We-we’ll get you to a hospital, it’ll be alright!”_

_“Rich...”_

_“Just stay awake for me, okay?”_

_“Richie.” Eddie’s hand shot out and grabbed Richie’s wrist in a vice grip. Richie stilled, eyes leaving Eddie’s face to look down at the hand holding him so tightly._

_“This is your fault.”_

_The voice was so quiet that Richie wasn’t sure he’d even heard him. His head snapped back up, teary brown eyes locking with blue ones which were now glaring at him._

_“Wh-what? Eddie?”_

_“This is your fault, Richie.”_

_“Eddie, I-I don’t-”_

_“You killed me, Richie. You let me die.” _

_Richie, feeling like his throat was closing and his lungs were about to collapse, tried to tug his arm out of Eddie’s grip. The blood pouring from Eddie’s mouth turned from crimson to pure black, just like when they were trapped in Neibolt as children, and Richie tried to scream. No noise came out. He gave one harsh, final tug, and Eddie released his grip. Richie fell back, crawling away from him as quickly as he could. He stopped and spun around, however, when he bumped into a pair of legs. _

_Beverly stood above him, as did Bill, Mike, and Ben. They stared down at him with accusative eyes, though Beverly was the first to break the silence._

_“He’s right, Richie. He’s dead because of you.”_

_“No!” Richie choked on the sob that bubbled up in his chest, trying to move away from them. _

_“This is your fault.” Mike hissed, taking a slow step towards him. “This is your fault.”_

_After a few moments, all four of them were chanting those four words at him. They were advancing on him, their words getting louder and louder until they’d turned into full blown screams. Richie covered his ears, shouting protest after protest. He screwed his eyes shut, one final scream erupting from his throat, and everything fell silent. _

_When he opened his eyes again, the four of them were gone. The cave was dead silent. Richie let out another sob, turning around hesitantly to see if Eddie was still behind him. He wasn’t, but a pool of blood sat where Eddie once had been. _

_“No...No, Eddie...Please, not Eddie...” Using a nearby stone to push himself to his feet, Richie stood. He swayed on the spot for a moment, regaining his balance. _

_“Richie?” _

_The voice came from behind him, and another sob shuddered through Richie’s body. It was Eddie’s voice. When he spun around, Eddie, with the same gaping wound in his chest and those red fucking clown markings now carved into his face, threw himself at Richie and slammed him to the ground, knife in hand. _

_“Time to float!” _

Richie awoke with a start, and the last of a scream passing through his lips. He felt the being on the mattress beside him flail in shock, presumably being woken up by his shouting, just as Richie’s stomach churned. He knew what was coming. He launched himself from the bed in one swift movement, throwing the covers back with little to no regard as to where they landed. 

The wooden floor felt like ice under bare feet, and the tiles in the bathroom were colder. Hell, the entire apartment felt like it had been submerged in ice. Was it always this cold? Maybe the heating was out again. Chicago in the winter was always rough, but this was a little much.

That didn’t exactly matter to Richie right now, though. All that mattered was the feeling of burning bile rising in his throat. 

He fell to his knees rather harshly in front of the toilet bowl, clammy hands gripping the porcelain. His body heaved forward as a sickening gurgling noise echoed through the tiny bathroom. He lurched forward again and spewed the rest of his dinner into the bowl with a gentle splash. Right, he’d had Spaghetti and Meatballs for dinner. It was a lot more appetizing going down than it was coming up.

Richie barely registered the sound of the door swinging back open and the lights turning on. He must have forgotten to do that when he ran in. Just as Richie finished retching and he groped blindly for the handle to flush, whoever followed him into the bathroom began to brush Richie’s hair out of his eyes. The other hand was rubbing soft, soothing circles into his back. 

Richie lifted his head when the hands came to touch his face, lightly wiping off his mouth and chin with a damp rag. Blue eyes met familiar brown ones and Richie’s immediately filled with tears. Eddie was knelt beside him, worry etched into ever fibre of his face. He was there, he was alive. He hadn’t been skewered like a kabob. There was no blood dripping down his chin, and there was no grime covering his skin and clothes. He was there, perfectly fine. The only proof he had that what had happened was even remotely real was the small scar on Eddie’s left cheek, where Bowers had stabbed him. Even if his face was blurry due to Richie’s lack of glasses, he knew it was Eddie. 

“Richie? Rich? Can you hear me?”

Eddie’s hands were now cupping both Richie’s cheeks, calloused thumbs wiping the tears that now feel freely from his eyes. 

“Eddie?” His voice was raspy and broken, it sounded nothing like him at all. Eddie’s expression softened even more, though Richie wasn’t sure how that was possible, but he tried to give Richie a warm smile. It came across more of a ‘I’m trying not to panic so I can make sure you’re okay, but you’re scaring the shit out of me’ smile than welcoming, but Richie found himself crumbling nonetheless. “Eddie...Eds-”

Eddie let out a soft “oof” as Richie collapsed into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Richie’s shoulders as they shook with sobs, Richie’s hands coming to clutch desperately at the bag of Eddie’s t-shirt. One of Eddie’s hands tangled in Richie’s curls and he dropped his head down, his chin resting atop tufts of black hair. 

“I’m right here, Chee. It’s okay, it’s alright. I’ve got you, let it out.” Eddie kept his voice quiet and did his best to make it as comforting as possible. Richie had always been the better one when it came to comforting people, he had a natural gift for it. Even if he was a pain in the ass most of the time, he knew when to cut the shit and really be there for someone.

Eddie had never been very good at comforting someone, especially when they were crying. He found himself too tense, his movements too stiff and robotic. Soothing Richie had always been different, though. Eddie was too focused on making sure Richie was alright to notice the underlying anxiety bubbling up in his gut.

After some time, Richie’s sobs dissolved into broken sniffles, muffled against Eddie’s shirt. He didn’t move from where his face was buried in Eddie’s chest, though.

“Richie?”

“You’re alive.” He sounded so small, and it broke Eddie’s heart. “Fuck, you’re alive.”

“Yeah, Rich, I’m alive. Thanks to you, remember?” 

Richie lifted his head up just enough to lock eyes with Eddie. Eddie leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, his gaze never once leaving Richie’s.

“You pushed me out of the way, Rich. We killed It, and we escaped. I’m alive because of you.”

Richie finally tore his eyes from Eddie’s face, and he looked around the bathroom. He still seemed so frightened.

“Do you know where we are, Richie?”

“Chicago?”

“Yeah, Chicago. Our apartment in Chicago. It’s December 3rd, sometime around 2am.”

“Oh...I’m sorry.” Richie finally pulled back from his spot in Eddie’s arms, reaching up to drag a hand across his face and remove any lingering tears. His face was flushed and blotchy, eyes red and still somewhat misty. Eddie felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize for this sort of stuff, okay? I want to make sure you’re alright. We’re in this together, and I intend to keep it that way.”

Instead of responding verbally, Richie simply nodded, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. Eddie couldn’t help it, he made a quiet noise of protest and tore off a few squares of toilet paper.

“Okay, fuck no, blow your nose properly.” 

With a shaky laugh, Richie took the toilet paper and blew his nose into it. Eddie seemed to relax only when Richie crumbled it up and tossed it into the nearby waste basket.

“Not gonna cut me any fucking slack, huh?’ Richie chuckled, and Eddie shook his head.

“Nope, not when you’re being super unsanitary and wiping your germs all over the hands I get to hold.”

Richie gave another grin, this one much less forced. That made some of the tension in Eddie’s shoulders dissipate. Thank God, Richie was almost worried Eddie would work himself up so much he’d have a heart attack.

Suddenly, Eddie pushed himself to his feet. He heard the other male groan a little as he straightened out his spine, and it was enough to make Richie’s eyes roll.

“You’re getting old, Eds.”

“So are you, Trashmouth. C’mon, let’s go back to bed.” Eddie extended his hand, which Richie willingly took. He used it to heave himself to his feet, mimicking Eddie’s groan from earlier. Eddie smirked. “Told you so.”

“Yeah, you did. You did.” Richie gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze which Eddie returned, a silent way of promising that he didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.

“Richie Tozier, actually saying I was right about something?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, Spaghetti.”

Richie let Eddie pull him back into their bedroom, hesitating only momentarily to turn off the bathroom lights and shut the door. The bedroom floor was still cold, but it was warmer than the bathroom tile. Either way, Richie couldn’t feel his feet anymore. All he could feel was the warm hand that fit perfectly in his. 

Eddie slipped into the bed first, ducking his legs under the covers. He gave Richie’s hand a soft tug and in no time, Richie joined him. Eddie pulled the covers over the pair of them, taking note of the quiet, pleased sigh that left Richie’s lips. He pulled Richie closer to him, laying back down on the pillows and letting Richie’s head come to rest against his chest. A mop of curls fell in Richie’s eyes as he lay down, but he couldn’t seem to care less. He could hear Eddie’s heartbeat thumping against one of his ears, and it was a relief. Eddie was alive, he was right there. That fucking clown hadn’t taken him. What he’d been shown in the deadlights wasn’t real.

Eddie’s arms wrapped securely around Richie’s torso, and the taller male let his eyes fall shut as the last bit of fear seemingly drained from his being. They were silent for some time. Long enough that Richie was almost convinced Eddie had drifted back off to sleep, but as Eddie broke the silence, he realized he was wrong.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

Richie merely shook his head. Eddie didn’t press any further, simply pressing a kiss to the top of Richie’s head as if to say ‘that’s alright, I understand.’

It was appreciated. 

After another long period of silence, Richie’s eyes darted over to the alarm clock on Eddie’s bedside table. It was hard to see without his glasses, and-  


“3:04am.” Eddie’s voice cut through Richie’s train of thought. Oh.

“You should go back to bed,” Richie mumbled, closing his eyes again, “you have work in the morning.”

“I’m not too worried about it. I'll worry about it tomorrow."

“You gonna break the rules and be sleep deprived at work? Just for little old me?”

He felt Eddie give a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, Chee. Just for little old you.”

Richie bit back a grin, pushing himself slightly closer to Eddie. Fuck, he was tired. Even if he didn’t want to sleep, even if he was worried about the nightmares and the clown that haunted his dreams, he couldn’t help himself. He was soon drifting back off to the world of sleep, one of Eddie’s hands lightly carding through his hair. 

Eddie stared down at the top of Richie’s head once the other had fallen asleep. He let his head drop back against the pillow, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling it.

“Anything for you.”


End file.
